


the wretched and the joyful

by bookwormywriter



Series: elixir of youth (straight from the tap) [2]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Booker | Sebastien le Livre Did Not Betray The Team, Canon Queer Character, Canon Queer Character of Color, Canon Queer Relationship, Dom/sub Undertones, Gen, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Immortal Wives Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Older Man/Younger Man, Team Bonding, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26712925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwormywriter/pseuds/bookwormywriter
Summary: First impressions are everything.  Nile thinks she did a pretty good job, all things considered.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache & Booker | Sebastien & Nile Freeman & Joe | Yusuf & Nicky | Nicolò & Quynh, Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolò di Genova & Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: elixir of youth (straight from the tap) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944031
Comments: 34
Kudos: 198





	the wretched and the joyful

**Author's Note:**

> So this is set in the same universe as "love's sweet bait", tl;dr Nicky died when he was just barely 18 and he and Joe are in a very enthusiastically consensual ageplay dynamic.

Nile’s tired and grumpy and really, really doesn’t want to be here. She doesn’t want to be some sort of immortal eternal soldier. She wants to go  _ home _ . Instead she’s following this woman—Andy, her brain supplies—through a graveyard toward an abandoned church. If this whole things turns out to be a gross human trafficking thing or something she’s gonna be so annoyed.

Andy’s opening the door to the rectory, yelling in. Nile can faintly hear sound and movement and smell something cooking. Her stomach perks up at the smell, she hasn’t eaten anything outside of an MRE or mess in a long time. She follows Andy inside. 

The whole place looks like a mixture of a tornado, an abandoned building and homey. Everything seems mismatched and there’s dust on a lot of things. Probably a last minute location. Nile’s eyes are sharply taking everything in. 

They round into an open, multi use area, a man is slumped low on the couch, one hand wrapped around the remote the other lazily curled into a fist and propping his head up. He looks to be in his early forties with slightly grey dappled hair and a beard, he looks up at the noise and straightens as he notices Andy stride in.

“Hey, Boss,” he greets. His eyes travel back toward Nile and he gives a nod. “New kid.”

Nile doesn’t say anything but nods distractedly at him, his attention already drawing back toward the TV. She watches Andy wrench open the door to the fridge and pull out a drink, untwisting the cap and tossing it on the table in what seemed to be designated the kitchen area. An petite but sharp looking Asian woman is sitting at the table, her attention drawn toward Andy who was taking a long swallow of her drink. Her fingers curled around the edges of an iPad, giving Nile a neutral smile, but it was easy to tell her attention was on Andy.

Another man was standing at the stove in the small, very slightly separated kitchen. He was tall and broad, she could tell, the thin sports shirt he was wearing clung to his form. He had a shocking fluff of dark curls and a well trimmed beard. He was stirring something on the stove and wordless opened an arm as Andy strode toward him, tucking her under his arm and pressing a kiss to her head.

Nile’s eyes roam the group of them, taking them in. She notes that they’re missing someone from what Andy said on the plane. She’s opening her mouth to ask when—

“Where’s the kid?” Andy asks tall, dark and muscular.

“Tower.” Came his response. He has the faintest hint of an accent but she can’t quite place it. The other man had an accent too. Andy didn’t have an accent. His attention turns from whatever he’s stirring that smells delicious more fully on Andy. “Want me to get him?”

“Nah, let him nest if he’s comfortable. We’ll get him for dinner.”

Andy moves away and slinks over to a chair, pulling it over toward the Asian woman and sitting down, kicking her feet up on another empty chair. She takes another pull from her drink and points toward Nile, then indicates each member in a circle. “Nile this is Joe, Quynh, Booker,” she introduces, “everyone this is Nile.”

Nile stands in place, hands awkwardly shoved into her pockets and looks around the room, resisting the urge to rock back and forth on her feet. “Hey.”

There’s a low rumble and a rattling as a plane roars overhead and Nile can’t help but look up at the ceiling. She shifts her weight, everyone else has seemingly gone back to ignoring her. “Uh, is there a bathroom?”

The Asian woman—Quynh—points down the hall. “Second door on your left, no hot water.”

Nile grimaces a bit before walking in brisk strides toward the appointed room. She passes by a dusty room that seems to hold a bunch of boxes and another open room that has a bunch of beds crammed into it. She turns into the bathroom and kicks the door shut behind herself. She braces her hands on the sink and bows her head taking a few deep breaths. She turns on the tap, letting it run and sits on the toilet. This is  _ insane _ . She pats her pockets and suddenly comes to the realization that she doesn’t have her phone. Her eyes screw shut and she tips her head back with a groan. She wallows for another few minutes before splashing the cold tap water on her face and then patting her face dry with a clean but slightly musty towel.

When she crosses back into the main area of the rectory the man at the stove (Joe, her mind supplies) has moved to the table and is talking animatedly to both Andy and Quynh, his hands moving. Andy is nodding every so often and Quynh seems to interject once in a while, he pauses when Nile approaches the table, now determined to just throw herself into this like the first day at bootcamp. He looks over with a smile, the action causes small laugh lines to crease around his eyes; he looks soft and cuddly, not necessarily a warrior type. Neither does the man on the couch. 

She drops into a chair, rocking back onto two legs to assess the other three at the table. They’re sizing her up, too. She knows. Quynh seems to hold herself in a way similar to Andy but with a slightly less outwardly aggressive manner, a slow simmering burn. 

“How long were you in?” Joe finally asks her.

“Four and a half years. Last two in Afghanistan.”

He hums quietly, nodding at her words. “How’d you like the dust storms?”

She opens her mouth a second, stupidly wanting to ask how he’d know about them but clicks her mouth shut. “Shitty when paired with a bombardment.”

He snorts at that and grins, she can’t help but relax her shoulders a bit. He holds his hand out to her across the table and she rocks forward, skidding forward on the old metal 70’s chair legs with a scrape and takes his hand to shake it. “Booker says Andy says you stabbed her.”

Nile eyes Andy. “Yeah, in the shoulder.”

His laugh earns him an eye roll and a swat on the arm from Andy even though she’s grinning and shaking her head. They seem like a family, almost. A bit awkward, but very close. It twists something inside of her but she pushes it down; later, she needs to focus now.

“Andy said some guys were hunting you or something.”

There’s a disagreeing noise behind her and she cranes her neck to look toward the sound. Booker, and what a weird name, but she’d definitely heard weirder in the Marines, pulls out another chair, sinking into it. “One guy. We’re taking care of it, don’t worry.” She eyes him for a moment, he seems sad, but he brightens considerably when Quynh pats his wrist and slides a glass of water toward him. “He’s good at hiding his tracks, though.”

“I can help you look, if you want. One of my friends was in intelligence on base.” 

He offers her a sloping smile and nods. “Sure.”

Andy’s watching her, she can feel the weight of her gaze and she turns to look at Andy directly, tilting her head in silent challenge. Andy smirks. “It’s almost dinner time, and since you’re new and haven’t been introduced you can go tell Nicky it’s time for dinner.”

Booker lets out a snort and shakes his head, taking a long sip of his water. Nile squares her jaw, clearly this is some kind of test. Maybe there’s a reason this Nicky guy isn’t in the house and getting her to go get him is some kind of joke. Whatever, she pushes back, standing from her chair. 

“Sure.”

Andy points her thumb toward a back door. “Top of the tower.” 

Nile eyes the four of them at the table, feeling hot and defiant, before turning and walking toward the door. She can hear Andy chuckling as the door swings shut and she steps into a small courtyard. The sun is starting to set and the whole thing would look really pretty if the situation wasn’t total bullshit. She crosses the small footpath to the tower and wrenches open the door. The smell of must and damp hits her and she eyes the stairwell, the stone is worn from years of going up and down. She tilts to look up toward the top of the tower and curses under her breath as she starts climbing. 

It isn’t long before she reaches the top and steps through a small archway. The sight that greets her isn’t anything that she expected. Sprawled on his stomach with a sniper rifle that looks nothing like anything she’s ever seen is a teenager. He’s currently adjusting the lens on his rifle, peering through it and she gapes for a long second, looking behind herself momentarily as if to see if someone is about to jump out and yell ‘surprise’. He’s got floppy mousy brown hair and was wearing what looked like khakis and a hoodie. 

“You must be Nile,” he says, not looking up from his position. 

“Uh, yeah. You Nicky?”

He gives the slightest nod of his head and turns his head to look up at her. His eyes are intensely coloured, almost a dark teal, and he’s got a sharp angular face, strong jaw and nose. He smiles at her, clearly reading her surprise. 

“Is it dinner time?” 

She nods and watches him sit up, collapse and disassemble the rifle with precision and speed that has her mouth run slightly dry, tucking it into the case and snapping it shut. He stands, dusts himself off and picks up the case. 

“How was your flight?”

“Andy fake-shot the pilot?”

Nicky laughs at that, turning to look back at her as he walks down the steps. “That sounds like her, did she say I was her son again, that act stopped getting old in the 1570s.”

Nile scrambles after him. “Wait,  _ what _ . You’re that old?! But you look—” She gestures at his whole being and he laughs again. 

“Older, but thank you. It’s flattering to know I still look good in my old age.” 

She can’t help the scoff that leaves her at that. “Okay, Edward Cullen.”

He pauses near the base of the stairs turning to look at her with a slight frown. “If you must compare me to anyone in that completely dreadful series I would prefer it to be Jasper, thank you. At least he wasn’t a stalker.”

She tilts her head at that in concession. “Point. Katniss Everdeen?”

He grimaces, wrenching the door open. “No thanks.”

“Legolas!” Nile shouts after him, grinning in spite of herself. 

She always loved riling up her younger brother; the thought hits her like a punch to the stomach and the smile drops from her face. Nicky’s looking at her, brows slightly pinched together, and she waves a hand at him, he nods, shrugs and opens the door to the rectory. She follows him inside, watching as he sets the case down next to a solid trunk and a series of duffle bags. 

“Dinner smells good!”   


“Thank you, baby boy!”

Nile’s brow ticks slightly at the nickname but watches Nicky stride off in the direction of the bathroom. When she returns to the kitchen area the table has been cleared of maps, books and other things, a basket of bread, draped in a tea towel is in the center next to a fresh pitcher of water and a bottle of wine. Bowls that definitely look like they’re from IKEA are being passed around the table and set down. They’re filled with what looks to be a mouth watering chicken and vegetable stew. 

There’s a seat between Booker and Joe and a seat between Andy and Booker and Nile’s eyes flit between the two empty chairs, not sure where she should sit. Nicky strides into the room, hoodie discarded and wearing an overly large olive drab shirt, he’s got a solid thick leather bracelet around one wrist, the leather work intricate even at a distance. He drops into the chair between Booker and Joe. Nile takes the last unoccupied seat. 

She’s expecting a speech maybe, some sort of formal statement of welcoming. Instead everyone just starts to eat. Nile takes the first bite of food and almost wants to cry. It’s like a reminder of chicken pot pie, almost, except they have bread to sop it up instead of a crust. God she hasn’t tasted anything this good in  _ years _ . The first round of bowls is eaten in relative silence and then after their initial hunger is sated and fresh refills are passed around, does conversation start to flow. It’s a bit awkward, mostly small talk of all of them around her, not quite sure how to include her. She doesn’t mind, it gives her a chance to watch them all. 

They seem to be talking about forging new identities and every now and then Booker is nodding his head, scribbling notes into a small notebook. He must be their fixer then, especially if he took her up on her offer for surveillance. Good, it would be simpler than working with Andy, probably. Maybe. Hopefully.

There’s a lull in the conversation and she uses it as an opportunity to jump in. If she’s part of this army now they’re supposed to be her team. “So, uh, how long have you all been together?” She gestures generally toward the group. 

“Before you Booker was the newest,” Quynh says, taking a bite of her bread. She wipes her fingers on the napkin. “1812.”

“No shit,” Nile says, eyes slanting toward Booker.

“Yeah, I died fighting for Napoleon.”

Nile grimaces at that. She remembers the basics. Russian front. Gross. He gives her a slight smile at her sympathetic look. 

“What about the rest of you?”

Joe gestures between himself, Nicky, Quynh and Andy. “We met in the 1330s.”

“Woah,” Nile looks them all over, then looks for a long moment at Nicky. Trapped as a teenager for all that time? Yikes.

“We met,” Nicky says, gesturing between himself and Joe, “when I stabbed him in the throat in the Crusades.” 

“Got you back with a knife to the thigh,” Joe replies, teasing, bumping his shoulder with Nicky’s. 

Nicky’s eyes are slightly downturned but he grins at the bump and bumps back gently. 

“Wait, Crusades, like  _ Kingdom of Heaven _ , Saladin, Richard the Lionheart…” Nile pauses when Joe shakes his head. 

“The first attempt on Jerusalem.”

Nile’s mouth parts in shock. 

Andy snorts. “Just wait until you learn Nicky was about to enter seminary and was forced to the front,” she pauses, spoon halfway to her mouth, smirks, “oops.” The tea towel that was draped over the bread is whipped at Andy’s head and she cackles. “What at least I’m not talking about that time in ‘67 when the two of you—”

“ _ Anyway _ ,” Booker says loudly. “All you really need to worry about now is moving forward.”

Nile ponders that for a long minute. She looks over to Quynh and Andy, who have very pointedly not answered the question. Old, she guesses. They all probably have baggage, hell she does and she’s not even thirty, let alone like a thousand years old. 

They finish eating and the dishes are gathered, Andy and Quynh both leave to scout the perimeter, Booker pulls out a laptop and she slides over to help him look through information. There’s soft sounds of conversation and dishes being done from the direction of the kitchen and she partly listens before realizing it’s not in English and decides to tune it out. 

“So what does this guy want?”

“He was a contact for a job about four years ago, contacted me recently to try and do a new job. We don’t do repeats, we can’t risk it. I told him we weren’t interested and he started threatening and blackmailing me. He wanted to get me, all of us, to help him with some miracle cure. Set up an ambush.” 

Nile blanches. “What an asshole.”

“Yeah and he’s ex-CIA so he knows what he’s doing, from what we can tell he’s working alone, at least.”

She nods a bit in understanding. No wonder they’ve been probably hitting dead ends. There’s a loud clattering noise and Booker going “ _ merde _ , on the  _ counter _ , really” and she’s got her head up. Her brain screeches to a halt for the briefest of seconds at the sight of Nicky hitched up, being held in place, pinned to the counter by Joe’s bulk. Nicky’s hands have shoved up behind Joe’s shirt, fingers splayed over a broad patch of back, his head tilted back with Joe’s mouth on his neck. 

“Excuse me,” she finally says after a beat once her brain kicks in, “some of us are trying  _ work _ .” 

Her voice actually gets them to both look at her, neither of them shamefaced but definitely surprised with her bland tone. Nicky gives a small, impish grin. Oh, she knows his type. The last time she went home on deployment she’d met a few people like him at her local munches. She holds his gaze, expression almost bored, and gestures toward the backdoor. 

“If you and your Daddy dom wanna take it outside feel free.”

The noise Booker makes is something strangled but amused and Joe just laughs at her. “I think you’re going to fit in just fine, Ms. Freeman.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr [here](https://a-little-bit-of-ultra-violence.tumblr.com) and a twitter @bookwormywriter where you can contact me and flail. You can also send me prompts. _please_
> 
> You can also hit me up on the new fan discord [here](https://discord.gg/DwKHcym). We'd love to have you.
> 
> Also please leave a comment if you can; they really keep me motivated!


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